


Mi Flannel es Tu Flannel (Imagine)

by blissfullylostinarabbithole



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Reader Gender Unspecified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blissfullylostinarabbithole/pseuds/blissfullylostinarabbithole
Summary: Sam gives you his shirt after you dirty yours.





	Mi Flannel es Tu Flannel (Imagine)

You felt the slightest tap on the front of your shirt and froze mid bite. It happened again. Looking up at their faces confirmed it. Dean was grinning, already beginning to shake from his suppressed laughter, and Sam’s apologetic look as he handed you a napkin. You placed your burger down and took it, ready to assess the damage. 

“I swear, every time!” Dean choked out. 

“Dammit!” you cursed your food at the sight of the kaleidoscope of condiments in the glob running down your front. As you cleaned up as much as you could, you admitted defeat and excused yourself to the bathroom. 

Unlike the boys, you were heat sensitive and didn’t wear endless layers. You removed your only shirt and attempted to wash it in the sink. It was useless; the stains were there to stay. It took four cycles under the hand dryer before you could put it on and head back out to finish your food. 

Being on a time crunch, there wasn’t time to head back to the motel to change before heading to the library. On the ride there, Sam watched from the mirror as you continued to try to lift the stain in vain. At your frustrated sigh when you pulled into the library’s parking lot, he was hit with an idea. It was so simple, he rolled his eyes at himself for not thinking of it before. He pulled off his top layer and offered it to you. 

“Here, you can wear mine.” His heart swelled at the grateful look you gave him. 

“Thanks,” you sighed in relief. When both got out of the car, you removed your shirt and pulled his on, enveloping yourself in his scent. You returned Sam’s smile when you emerged, rolling the sleeves up as you headed toward the building. 

Sam watched you walk toward the doors, and caught Dean smirking at him. “What?” 

“You like the way Y/N looks in your shirt, huh?” he teased. 

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t seem to wipe the stupid grin off his face. “Shut up.”

 

* * *

 


End file.
